Healing Scars
by MagicPirate16
Summary: Following the battle for Nassau, Anne and Jack start to heal their wounds from the war. A scene post-battle of Anne and Jack tending to each others wounds and comforting each other. Just a scene to satisfy all those Anne/Rackham lovers out there during the long wait to season 4. Warning: SPOILERS for all of season 3, some swearing, and a little suggestive at points.
**Author's Notes:** **I noticed there isn't a lot of Anne and Rackham fanfiction out there and after the season 3 finale I couldn't not write something for them. This scene is just their post battle meeting so spoilers for all Black Sails seasons, only read if you are up to date or don't mind some major spoilers. I've tried to keep the characters as true to the show as possible but I fear Anne isn't quite there so please forgive me for that. Anyway I hope you enjoy it. See you on the other side.**

 **Healing Scars**

Anne's boots tapped heavily on the floor of the wooden shed as she was shown into her sleeping quarters for the night. After commanding the attack on the English naval vessel she had been revered as second to Jack, and not just by their close associates but all surviving crew members, and therefore had been given her own private shack on the island of freed slaves. She needed to be away from the eyes of the crew, as she knew soon her body would start to react to the stress of the battle and she could not afford to show weakness in front of these men. Even considering the crews on fatigue she knew too well that a sign of fatigue from her would only present some of the men to blame her tiredness on account of her being a woman, not of the battle she had fought. Nodding wordless to the woman attending her that this place was sufficient she waited until the wooden panelled door had clicked behind her before letting out a deep breath and letting her shoulders slump in fatigue.

The room was filled with all the basics for comfortable living and Anne was suddenly aware that she was more than likely standing in the room of a dead man, his most personal space given to another mere hours after his sacrifice. She tried not to dwell on the emotion behind the room, it was somewhere to rest her head, and she'd seen and caused too much blood to be spilled to think too deeply in to the after effects of a single person's death. Staring around the room Anne noticed the small carved wash basin, two buckets of water and the small rag at the side of the room and longed for the feel of cool water on her blood crusted body. Her clothes had dried hard on her, the combination of salt water and sweat sticking the clothes to her skin, and she felt that if she removed them they may rip a layer of skin off with them. Her hair was matted with blood and it hadn't been long into the battle until she had lost track of whose blood it was that clotted in her tendrils. A wooden framed bed dominated the room, a single sheet covered the lumpy mattress, alerting her suddenly to the shear heat of the island climate and prompted her to loosen her corset from around her. Her hands were bruised and cracked from the dried salt water and she pathetically fumbled with the fine cord tying the leather together. Finally the corset loosened and on the relieving of the pressure Anne felt a new searing pain run up her back and a fresh trickle of warm blood run down the grove of her spine. Through the heat of the battle the wound on her back must have sealed shut with blood and the pressure from the corset, and with the movement of the garment had ripped the wound clean open again.

Sighing to herself at the inconvenience of such an injury Anne sat on one of the chairs in the room and removed her belt and through it to the floor and slid her boots off and all attached knives that had been strapped to her thighs and slumped forward, sucking in short breathes of the clammy air. Steading her breathing she became aware of the sound of approaching footsteps and stood up quickly, bringing on a sudden head rush that she sort to fight away and mask her pain with what she hoped was her famous face of stern distain.

"Anne?" a familiar voice questioned at the door and Anne relaxed again into the chair with a louder than intended thump, prompting Rackham to stride into the room, a look of concern on his face.

"Anne? Are you alright?" Jack quickly strode across the room and knelt in front of her and lifted her chin up to look at him. His face was covered in gun powder and cannon soot and a dark purple bruise ran along his prominent right cheekbone, the skin pulled tight from the purple swelling. His mouth was pulled into a tight line, his wind dried lips cracking from the strain. Anne noticed the collection of dirt in his forehead furrows, indicating his concern expression had been held throughout the whole battle, providing a collection sight for the surrounding dust. Sweat had ran tracks down his face and his hand on her chin smelt of his familiar salty scent, the tang of his blood reaching her from a small shoulder wound on his right side.

Taking his appearance in for a moment Anne finally nodded slightly. She had to smile slightly when his eyebrow raised indicating his disbelief.

"I'm fine Jack, a few cuts and bruises ain't nothing new to us" She tried to reassure him with reason, knowing he'd responded to logic more than anything else.

Jack let out a low chuckle, "I wish that wasn't true." He half breathed to himself, momentarily forgetting himself and cupping the side of her face in his hand, staring intently into her eyes. She didn't have the energy to protest her emotional incompetence at the softer side to their relationship but cast her eyes down. At this he snapped out of his gaze and quickly busied himself with removing his own belt and weapons.

"Come on darling, let me take a look." Jack resumed into their post-battle practicalities extending a hand to her which she easily took.

"It's nothing drastic, I didn't break anything just some poor bastard made the wrong fucking decision to slash me in the back." Anne's comment held the faintest hint of remorse, with her emotions cracking through slightly Jack knew she must be exhausted to allow some sorrow in her actions seep through.

Jack would _almost_ feel sorry for the navy officer who had decided to underestimate Anne. He probably had thought that he was going to kill the commanding pirate of the attack before she could even respond, survive the onslaught, and go on to be showered in glory. He couldn't had known he had chosen so horrendously wrong, until Anne had rebounded, hair wiping around, the delicate clinking of the beads in her hair an ironic elegance before her blade pierced his heart, her wrist twisting it in for added pain and satisfaction on her half. The spurge of hot, sticky blood on his face would have been the first and last indication of his horrendous error. He would _almost_ feel sorry for him if it wasn't for Anne's blood crusted corset he now ran his hands over trying to determine the entry point of the wound.

"Is it stiff on your skin?" Jack asked feeling the crusted corset and noting Anne's wince of pain at the top of her shoulder blade to the opposite bottom of her ribs.

"Yeah." She breathed curling her toes at the pain. Jack new she was in more pain than she was letting on from this one small action. In her boots she could curl her toes when pain hit and focus on keeping a poker face to the crew by concentrating on another action other than grimacing. Except for her rage-filled, rash decisions there was nothing Jack did not know about her.

Scanning the room Jack saw the island people had prepared the room well, probably set out for the original owners return from the battle. Striding over to the buckets Jack soaked the provided rag with water and noted the location of the linen strips of fabric that would work as bandages later on.

Anne didn't protest to Jacks help, she didn't need to play any power games with him, and he knew everything anyway. If she'd hidden an injury he'd only find the scar of it on her body in the future and ask her about it, he knew everything.

Reaching under her corset and shirt at the base of her spine Jack squeezed the rag at the top of the garments with his other hand, releasing the water and slowly losing the scabbed wound from the torn linen of her shirt and attached corset.

"Fuck, Jack!" Anne hissed as he applied more outwards pressure, pulling the garments away from her skin. She flinched away from him, not helping the situation as he felt her skin quickly unstick with her sudden jolt.

"Sorry, sorry almost done." He lied as he squeezed the rag again and let the water sink into the raw skin, waiting for the dried skin to soften before finally pulling the rest of the garment away from her and removing the clothing from over her head.

Released from the grimy clothing Anne let out another sigh and looked down at her bare chest. Nothing seemed too damaged on her front. A trail of grim ran between her breasts and down her stomach where the sweat had naturally funnelled along her body. A small bruise and graze rested on her hip and she guessed at it being created during the climb up the side of the ship when they mounted the navy vessel.

"There. Now sit and let me clean it", grabbing a stool Jack motioned for her to sit.

She obliged and scooped her hair over the shoulder that was furthest away from the wounds beginning. Even in her current state Jack couldn't help but stare at her for a second. Her face was not sad but full of thought, as she always seemed, weighed down by her decisions more than she cared to let other people know. She was to him, even in this moment, breathtakingly beautiful and if he hadn't been so concerned about her wound he would have loved to kiss her, to thank her for surviving the battle, make her shiver in delight by touching her soft breasts and hardened nipples. But blood was beginning to ooze form her wounded back and he quickly wetted the cloth and set back to work.

Having had a fair few of similar wounds between them in their time Jack knew how to clean the wound well, but couldn't help feel a flicker of pain of his own every time she hissed in pain through clenched teeth.

The whole time they'd been in the shack Jack had not hinted to her of his own aches and pains from the battle and she couldn't wait any longer to know in what condition he was in.

"What happened to you?" Anne asked, playing with her hands nervously in anticipation of his response.

Jack smiled to himself at her blatant concern for him. He knew she loved him and he told her how much he loved her when he thought she could handle the idea of being loved but it was rare they were so obvious in their affection to each other; that's what war does to you, resets your priorities.

"We got blown up pretty fucking hard at times but held the line until you got the other ship," Jack reiterated the obvious plan, "then fire stopped on us pretty much as soon as you'd blown up the line around you. It was fucking beautiful to watch Anne, I would have loved to see what realising you have been beaten by an underestimated opponent looked like on their faces."

"Jack" She said simply, conveying her need for more information in her tone, warning him not to leave out what she really wanted to know again.

Jack sighed in an exacerbated tone, annoyed at himself for getting injured in the first place. She'd already dealt with his injuries recently from his crashed caravan ride.

"I got hit by a lot by cannon debris, may or may not have broken a rib…or two. Aside from bruises it's all fine."

Anne hung her head to try and hide her face as Jack tackled cleaning the deepest part of her wound. His injuries concerned her more than her own. Hers was just another lengthy scar to add to all the others on her body, but she wasn't sure how many more times Jack could get away with breaking ribs before he punctured something vital, or his rib cage just became a shattered mosaic of bone in itself.

"There." Jack said as he finished dabbing the wound, "Let me just clean the rest of your back and then ill bandage it up."

Anne watched him this time as he went again to the bucket, rinsing out the cloth through a crack in the floor boards, watching her watered down blood soak his hands from the cloth. He then bent down and soaked the rag in the bucket again. This time she noticed the way he carefully held himself to avoid bending his torso too much, and the slight flicker of discomfort furrow his brow.

His hands where soothing and familiar on her back as he washed away the sweat, salt, dirt and remaining blood from her. A perfectionist in his own nature Anne new he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied that she wouldn't get an infection, scrubbing her cleaner than she had been in months.

The skin around her wound was raw and swollen but thankfully the navy officer's sword had been sharp enough to make a clean cut and not leave her skin raggedly torn, a pressurized bandage would hold the skin together for a few days and then she'd recover fine. His hands ran unnecessarily over the previous scars on her back, sending the hairs on the back of her neck to stand slightly in response to the delicate pleasure of his touch. Knowing now was not the time to waste on lusts that could be rampantly fulfilled when they were both in better condition he satisfied his need for affection by kissing her shoulder lightly and moved once again to ring out the rag and fetch the new bandages. He washed his own hands of her blood and dried them on a clean spot of her old shirt, for there was no point even trying to save the ragged material now.

Anne was comforted by the familiarity in their post battle routine and leant forward more on the chair so Jack could apply pressure to the wound dressing before sitting up again so he could weave the bandage over her shoulder, between her breasts and around the opposite side of her waist like a sash. She smiled at his concentration of getting the bandage just right. He cared so much, and had not been forced to care or even asked to, but he cared for her for some reason unknown to her. And she was compelled, not out of need or obligated necessity to feel the same way about him.

"Wasn't sure we were both going to make it through this one Jack." Anne stated simply, brushing his hand slightly as he wove around the front of her torso again. Jack continued to work methodically on her bandage and she knew that he was trying to avoid the thought of them living separately, forced apart by some battle that would kill one of them, and destroy the other emotionally in response.

"I knew you'd make it." Jack lied not wanting to tell her about how he had feebly tried to watch the water as her crew swam to the ship, cursing under his breath every time a cannon ball missed hitting his ship and instead hitting the water surrounding them, hoping to God each time that it hadn't got her.

"Yeah well I am better with a sword." Anne teased him lightly as he knotted the bandage on her shoulder.

He chuckled again and came around to face her, brushing his tousled hair out of his eyes as he did so.

"Well you must have had a good teacher then." Jack jibbed her again as he knew full well that Anne had taught herself to fight through mistakes in battle more than his attempts at practise with her, in fairness she had probably taught him more during those sessions.

After hearing her scoff at his remark he suddenly felt fatigue hit him, knowing that her wound wasn't life threatening and seeing her to be emotionally stable he knelt quickly to the ground to rest for a second, forgetting momentarily the pain in his ribs and agitating the cracked bones even more.

"Ow fuck!" He cursed and leant his head and arms on her knees, burying his watering eyes into her thighs so as to avoid showing her his tears of pain.

"Jack, let me sort you out now." She said as if berating a small child.

"Honestly Anne it's not that bad, I'll be fine in a day or two. You know my ribs have been broken more times than I care to admit." He muffled from his place between her thighs and stomach as she leant over him to pick up the end of his shirt in order to remove it, so she could see the extent of the bruising he had sustained.

"Shut up Jack" she scolded as she lifted his head from her thighs so she could pull the shirt over his head. "Can you stand up?"

He nodded in response and she looked over his chiselled torso and how he winced towards movement on his right hand side.

"What were you hit with?" She asked as she surveyed the extent of bruising centred on his ribs and running along his arm, on the round of his hip and on his face. The wound on his shoulder was superficial but looked to have a small piece of splintered wood stuck in it.

"I believe it make have been a piece of the ships railings? Some fucking great lump of wood that's all I know" he tried to laugh off.

Anne went and grabbed the bucket from the side and set it at Jack's feet. Quickly she washed her hands and picked underneath her nails, not wanting to get dirt in his wound.

"You've got wood in your wound that I'm going to have to pull out. Sit down for this." And she now gestured towards the stool. Standing in front of him she pushed at the wood that had forced its way from the entry point towards the opening so she could grab a hold of the end, hoping that it hadn't splintered further in him.

Jack smoothed his moustache for a while trying to hold it together. She knew he needed her affection right now and just seeing him alive was enough to soften her enough to stroke his hair soothingly for a moment, letting him know that it was alright to show his weakness now. He sighed and rested his head on her stomach, one of his hands snatching to her thigh to cling onto as she began sliding the wood out of his shoulder slowly to avoid ripping any further tissue.

When it was finally out Jack sighed in relief and turned to watch a fresh trickle of blood run down his arm. He didn't mind blood, it was actually a comfort to see that after all of this he still bled the same as always.

Anne continued to clean the wound and then wound a bandage around his shoulder and across his chest to keep it in place, her heart beating a little faster as she felt his breath on her neck.

"Stand up." She ordered as she walked away from him to ring out the wash cloth. She picked up his discarded shirt on the way back and began folding it to create a padding for his back and placed it on the bed in preparation for when they both collapsed on there later on.

"Which ones is it this time?" She piercingly stared at him, meaning to sound joking and concerned but coming out as hard as always, an emotion she always reverted to when she was worried about him.

He motioned to the middle two ribs on his right hand side and she gently began prodding up towards that point to determine if there were any other breaks that had been masked by the more prominent pain.

"Put my hand where it hurts most." She told him and he gently guided her sore hands to the tender spot on his ribs. Delicately she ran her hand over the area and thankfully couldn't feel any lumps that would indicate a miss placement of bones, a clean crack was always a lot easier to treat.

"There's not much I can do, it's a clean break so you'll be fine." She looked at the deep purple bruising that ran underneath her soft touch and she began gently washing his chest so she could try and see if there was anywhere else that needed treating under all the grime.

"You need to breathe normally Jack." She mumbled as she placed a hand on his chest which moved raggedly under her touch.

"I know but I'm trying not to cough and I'm still worked up from it all, and you standing there all-" He was cut off by a violent cough as some of the dust of the battle finally settled in his throat. Instinctively Anne pressed her body to his and wrapped her arms around his back to try and support his ribs from the coughing action.

When the coughing subsided Jack began to breathe a little easier but the action had caused him so much pain he was exhausted. His head dropped onto her shoulder and he groaned in pain, his matted hair tickling her neck.

"Thanks darling." He breathed out after the waves of pain began to dull a little. She was suddenly aware of the press of her bare chest to his and enjoyed being so close to him after all the worry of war had kept them from each other for longer than she could ever remember.

She held him awhile longer and he didn't object. They were all each other had. Their only other mutual friend, more of a brother, had been hung and their shared grief from it all was just another stitch in their tapestry pulling them more securely together.

Finally breaking away Anne walked around him and began washing the grim off his back, the sting of salt from the crusted residue on his skin stinging her cracked hands.

When she was finally done Jack thanked her and walked over to a basket in the corner of the room and luckily found fresh linen shirts inside. He through one at Anne who proceeded to dress, much to his dismay, and so did he, much to hers. Now they weren't distracted Jack began to think logically about what was the next after a battle; healing, and political clean up.

"I saw Flint on my way over here, and we are both to convene for a meeting tomorrow morning. He was a little insistent on tonight but Silver conveyed that the crews wanted time to morn before we moved onto the next stage." Jack returned to his logical mind to keep them both from descending into an exhausted indifference.

"Any major casualties?" Anne asked, not discounting the loss of crew members but concerned for the welfare of the main players of the war.

"Silver's leg is bothering him, well what's left of it. I overheard him say to the princess of this place. Not that he'd show anything like that to Flint which is a little concerning but minor in the grand scheme of it all." Jack swallowed hard and looked uncomfortable for a second, "He is a master tactician I'll give him that, he could defiantly give me a run for my money at times."

"If he did I'd simply end him." Anne stated matter of factly as she too began looting the linen basket for any clean trousers, or even a skirt at this rate.

"Darling." Jack warned her in a disapproving tone but she just smirked, as they both knew if anyone, even someone as important as Silver, tried to harm Jack no warning would stop her actions.

"Flints a bit beaten up from the fight but no worse than you, Teach seemed unscathed by it all." Jack finished accounting for all the major players and finally retrieved two pairs of trousers for them both.

"I'll row to the ship tomorrow and retrieve our clothes so we can attend the meeting looking unscathed in our finest calico." The prospect of clean, fine clothes bringing him some comfort. "I'll get your hat too."

"Thanks." He knew how that hat had become a part of her identity since the day he gave it to her, and she'd not really taken it off since. She'd need her hat to hide her facial expressions from all the bullshit that some of the players would want present tomorrow. She knew the overall plan needed settling but if that didn't involve returning to Nassau to avenge Vane then she'd have something to say.

"How are we going to play it?" Anne asked as she quickly washed her now bare legs and quickly put on the new trousers.

Jack sat down on the bed and tried not to watch her in her undressed state, she was right he needed to think of his next move and not the need to be with her in a celebration of both of their survival.

"I'll play along with Silver. He seems the most level headed about the whole situation at the moment, although his attachment to the princess could alter that depending on what he gets up to tonight" He mused, Anne rolling her eyes at his remark.

"I hope I've got Teach on my side now, he'll want to go back to Nassau too to meet Miss Eleanor with open arms." Sarcastic venom dripped from his words as he thought of Eleanor ordering Vanes execution and how he would make her pay.

"I'd rather see her squirm on a hook for a while, but I assume Teach will just kill her at the first opportunity but I'll try and keep an eye on him so we can leech the bitch of everything she has before we let her go. As long as we go to Nassau and publically show how we have avenged our brother to the masses we should be ahead. And as long as I am on the same level as Mr. Silver's plans I think we will come out of this quite nicely." Jacks plan wasn't without difficulty but it was enough for Anne to trust in his judgment, anyway, wherever he went, she did too, no matter what.

Anne knelt before him and began removing his boots, protesting when he began to lean forward unnecessarily to help.

"Teach and you both warned Vane she'd be the death of him. I just never thought she'd turn to that." Anne washed his feet absently mildly so he didn't have to bend and agitate his bones anymore.

Jack sighed at how for once he wished he hadn't be right about something. "She's the worst of the lot of us," he remarked painfully, "She knows no loyalty, and Vane assumed the best in her. He was blinded but not ignorant to her will. He died because of her, but on his own terms, a sacrifice for the cause."

The room fell silent for a moment as they both thought on the loss of Vane. Anne rang out the rag before rolling up his trousers to start to wash the bottom of his legs and then handed him the rag so he could take them off and finish the rest of his legs.

A spare bucket of water allowed Anne to dip her long hair into the cleaner water and she watched with some delighted satisfaction as blood seeped from her locks as it was dye running out.

"You know Vane also said that you and I would be the death of each other Anne?" Jack chuckled as he pulled up the new trousers and sighed in delight at the feeling of finally being clean again.

Anne let the memory of that sink in again and it surprised her how much it pained her to think of Vane. She dunked her head in the bucket before replying, rubbing her face clean as she resurfaced and letting the last drops of blood ring out of her hair.

"He also said that if we survived each other everyone would likely be working for us." Anne grinned as she ripped a piece of her old shirt into a long strip for a hair tie and quickly plaited her wet hair to stop it soaking both of them in bed.

"Yes, yes he did." Jack smiled a toothy grin at her. "I prefer that outcome much more, and it definitely seem a lot more likely. Unless you plan on punching me in the ribs any time soon or breaking a few more?" He joked and strode over to her, brushing a stray hair from out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

"Behave and I won't have to." She smirked and out of nowhere reached up and passionately kissed him on the lips. The lust and desperation of both of their near with deaths over the past couple of weeks poured out in that kiss, the only thing they could give each other in their current exhausted and weak states. Jack pulled her further into it and savoured every second of her softened emotional shell. He lived for these moments with her, he'd take them every day if he thought she could handle the idea of being loved so obviously and so fiercely. Finally they broke apart for air, their kiss ranking up both their heart rates and making it even harder for Jack to breathe than he was already finding it.

"Until they put us _both_ in the ground then?" Jack panted, swallowing hard in anticipation of her response, his eyes darting across her face in hope of reading her expression.

Anne smiled in confirmation, "Until they put us in the fucking ground."

 **Authors Notes: I hope you enjoyed it. Obviously all characters and pre scene settings belong to Black Sails, I just made up this scene. I hope you enjoyed the references to previous classic Anne and Rackham scenes. Please review and let me know what you think, I may be tempted to write more about them**


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